Taken: (A Dark Romance Kidnap Thriller) (The Dark Necessities Trilogy Book 1)

by Felicity Brandon

  Molly snuggled down as best she could in the confines of the soft bed. She felt for her blanket, pulling it up over her body. She was trembling more from frustration than the cold, but somehow, the act comforted her. She had no idea how long she lay there for. Connor had turned on the mattress above her, and she’d long since heard the soft, rhythmic sound of his breathing. Reaching for the collar at her neck, she fumbled with the attachment, wondering if she could release it and be free of the wretched leash. Her fingers struggled in the dark for what felt like hours, but somehow Molly could never seem to release the damn thing. At some point, she collapsed against the fur-lined bed, exhausted and despondent.

  Chapter Forty-One

  He roused at seven, surprisingly refreshed considering his broken night of sleep. His little pet was curled into a tight ball in her bed, and he took a moment to enjoy the look of her sleeping. His gaze drank in the sight of her reddened bottom, which was left beautifully exposed by the green blanket she clutched to her chest.

  Connor inhaled deeply, considering whether or not he had time to jerk off to the scene just beyond his bed. Certainly, it was tempting, and his cock came to life under the covers as if to remind him of the fact. Stroking the shaft adeptly, he shifted his position to get a better view. Molly was glorious, and the incident last night had been an unexpected bonus, but he must not allow himself to become side-tracked. There would be time for pleasure, but this was not it. With a long sigh, he slipped from his covers and began the day.

  The house was quiet as he worked. Having left his pet sleeping and chained in his bedroom, with the door bolted from the outside, he knew she’d be safe for the time being. Time was of the essence though, so he finished setting up the basement with uncharacteristic haste. The next time she was naughty, or defied him, this is where he would bring her. His eyes surveyed the dark space. Each wall had been designed for its purpose, with racks and chains in place to hold and suspend her. There was a large, leather spanking bench to one side, a smaller bench nearby, plus a chair designed to hold her in place while he worked. In the far corner sat his personal favorite item, the large crate he’d had custom-made for holding her. It had a soft plastic floor, but all four sides were made of black metal bars, which matched the roof. To all intents and purposes, it was a cage. A cage intended to keep an unruly animal, and he smiled as the fitting analogy swept through his mind.

  Deciding the basement was ready, he climbed the staircase back to the ground floor, switching off the light and locking up behind him. He imagined her alarmed face when it was time to take her down there, and yet again, his eager cock sprung to life. Shaking his head, he smiled as he made his way back to his bedroom. That thought would have to wait too, there was a list of things he needed to achieve this morning, and first thing was first, his pet needed a shower.

  As he opened the door, he found her just where he’d left her. Clearly, the spanking last night had taken more out of her than he’d anticipated, or maybe it was just the whole ordeal taking its toll. Either way, it was nearly eight, and it was time for his sleeping beauty to rise. He approached her slowly, towering over her scrunched-up body. The contrast between them at this moment had never been starker. Connor held all of the power. He was dressed, fed and had a day of plans and schemes in mind. His pet, on the other hand, was so much more vulnerable. Naked, she was chained and leashed to his bed.

  While he stood looking down at her, she stirred. Connor watched as her lids flickered open, and she took in her immediate surroundings. There was a moment of clarity when her eyes widened, and then she tilted her head to find him looming over her nudity. Molly jumped reflexively, and he struggled to contain the laughter which sprung from his lips.

  “Good morning, pet,” he told her chirpily. “I’m glad you’re awake.”

  He surveyed the carpet around her bed, and his eyes fell over the chocolate stains again. His pet would have to get better at drinking from her bowl if she wanted the luxury of sleeping in his room. Striding to the end of his bed, he unwound the chain from its place at the post.

  “Come on,” he ordered, tugging the chain gently to coax her from the bed.

  Molly’s gaze followed his feet, but she obeyed nonetheless, crawling behind him sleepily as he unbolted the door. Once in the hall, he guided her right, and back into the bathroom she’d visited yesterday. She crawled to the center of the room, twisting to see Connor close the door behind them, before sliding another large bolt into place above her head. He hooked the end of her leash to the peg on the back of the bathroom door. That would hold her in place while he got things ready, and he turned to see her sitting back on her haunches in the morning light.

  Fuck, he thought, watching the rays of light bounce of her dank hair. Even in this state of disarray, she looked amazing. “It’s time for your shower,” he crooned, breaking the silence.

  “Shower?” she asked, her voice hoarse.

  He smiled. “Yes, pet,” he replied, turning on the tap at the end of the bath. Water poured into the small tub, and he moved his palm under the flow, adjusting the taps until the temperature was right. “You’ve been with me more than a day already,” he explained, turning back to face her kneeling form. “It’s time we cleaned you up.”

  “More than a day?” she queried, her face crumpling as she tried to make sense of his words.

  It was clear to Connor that his pet had lost all track of time. He supposed it was hardly surprising, given everything she’d been through.

  “Yes,” he told her, flicking the taps off and grabbing the shower head from its place on the wall. “Now, get in here.” Connor gestured to the tub, which now had a small puddle of water pooling at the bottom.

  “In these, Sir?” she mumbled, raising her hands to display her chains.

  He nodded. “Yes. I’ll help you.”

  Connor reached his hand out to her, and she dropped back to the floor, crawling gingerly to where he was waiting. The sight of her compliance made him giddy, but he held his nerve, watching as she knelt before him. “Take my hand,” he instructed her, and slowly she obeyed.

  Time protracted as her tiny hand slipped over his own, and he curled his digits around her own to support her.

  “Up and in now,” he commanded, intentionally making the order as low and sensual as he could.

  Molly’s eyes flitted to his face for a moment, and then she rose to her feet, her right hand still swallowed up in his large palm. Lifting her left foot up to the top of the tub, the chains at her ankles strained tightly. “I don’t know if I can manage it with these chains,” she whispered.

  Connor glanced at her face, watching the first flames of a new blush. He could tell she was mortified to have to admit it, but looking down at her struggle, he also knew it was true. “Fine,” he replied, patting her knee away from the tub gently. “Foot down then. I’ll lift you in.”

  He saw her fast intake of breath and the way her body tensed, but it didn’t stop Connor. His hands were at her hips in a moment, and gently he lifted her over the edge of the bathtub. She weighed practically nothing, and although her limbs seemed strong and toned, he eased her into the tub with little effort. She eyed him warily as he shifted back toward the shower head, which he’d left running into the bath.

  “Sit down,” he commanded, offering her his left hand for support.

  She gulped with obvious trepidation as she inched closer to it. He could understand why she didn’t trust him, but that didn’t matter. Trust could come, or maybe it wouldn’t, but what he needed in the meantime was obedience.

  “Pet,” he prompted her in a much lower tone. “Take my hand, and sit.”

  The short, sharp collection of orders reminded him of the way he’d spoken to his dogs at The Syndicate in the past, and the thought made him smile. As he caught her eye, he wondered if Molly was drawing the same comparison.

  Slowly, she descended, until she was stretched out in the tub as far as her long limbs would allow. Satisfied, he moved the shower over h
er body, directing the flow of water over her chest, and stomach. He stood, hypnotized for a moment as the torrent washed over her firm breasts, collecting at the hard buds which formed at its approach. Christ, the woman was tantalizing, he thought, and not for the first time, had to push his desire away as he managed the task at hand. Connor washed the warm water over her hair and shoulders, before he placed the shower head at the other end of the bath and reached for the waiting shampoo bottle.

  “Are you going to keep me forever, Sir?”

  The question startled him, and he spun to address her curious stare. She looked even better with her hair wet and flattened down her back, like some sort of Amazonian Goddess. Moving back toward her, he lathered the product into her hair, easing the strands away from her eyes. It was bizarrely satisfying to take care of her in this way, and it reminded him that he didn’t want to only use and enjoy his pet, he wanted to nurture and protect her as well.

  “Do you want the truth, pet?” he demanded, although his voice remained calm as he spoke. “Can you handle it?”

  She drew in a breath, lifting her chains from the bath. “I don’t know,” she admitted, lowering her face in the direction of the growing pool of water around her thighs.

  Connor reached for a near-by sponge, handing it to her. “Cover your eyes with this,” he ordered, as he grabbed the shower head and rinsed away the soap suds from her hair.

  “I know this isn’t what you want to hear,” he told her as he yanked the damp sponge from her face, “but it’s taken many months of planning to get you here, and I have absolutely no intention of giving you up.”

  She eyed him wildly, her expression anxious as she listened to what he had to say. “But,” she began, her voice thick with whatever conflicting emotions were battling inside her. “You can’t have me,” she argued. “I’m not yours. I not am not anybody’s, I…”

  He’d dropped the shower head in an instant, throwing it to the other side of the small tub, and a moment later his fist was at the chain still attached to her collar. Forcefully, he yanked her forward, pulling her upper body toward him at will. Molly gasped at his speed and strength, the rest of her sentence dying on her lips.

  “You are mine, pet,” he told her in an emphatic tone. “And if I haven’t made this evident to you yet, then I swear, I’ll spend the rest of today doing so.”

  Chapter Forty-Two

  There was a heavy silence after the exchange. Molly sunk into a new low as his words echoed around her head. He didn’t seem angry as such, more determined, and he maneuvered her with short commands which made her even more anxious.

  As he lifted her from the tub and threw a green towel over her shoulders, the depth of her predicament really struck her. He caught her hand as it rose to dry her body.

  “No,” he instructed. “Leave it to me.”

  She nodded, biting her lip as she felt him move the towel around her body, shifting it under her arms and breasts, and down between her legs. She closed her eyes at the utter indignity of it. Somehow, this seemed worse than being made to drink from the damn dog bowl. However dehumanizing that had been, at least in some fucked up way she’d actually enjoyed it. There was nothing enjoyable about this at all, and as the towel slipped back between her thighs she saw the act for what it really was; a reinforcement of power between them. She would be passive and obey, and he would be active and in control. The thought made her want to cry again.

  He skimmed the towel over the rest of her body, tucking it under the leather at her throat, before turning his attention to her hair.

  “Kneel,” he ordered, pointing to the floor by his feet, and seeing no viable alternative, she obeyed.

  Her mind flittered from subject to subject as he worked on her hair with the damp towel. Where the fuck were they, and how long had she even been here? He had mentioned something about her being here more than a day, but could that be right? She could barely recall the last day, but then she knew he’d knocked her out cold, so maybe she had lost track of time? That idea made her even more fearful. As if this man didn’t control everything else, now he even had control over time itself.

  Next, her brain tried to think of a decent plan for her escape. As she knelt on the small rug, blinking into the gray light of morning, she knew one thing for certain. She had to get away. There may have been shameful parts of her confinement which had turned her on, but Molly was under no illusions. Connor was clearly a madman, a psychopath, or God knew what. He might say he wasn’t going to force himself on her, but it was pretty damn obvious that he was enjoying himself. She’d clocked his hard-on on more than one occasion, and last night his erection had been fit to burst as he’d spanked her. She drew in a shaky breath at the memory, and a warm throb teased her at the apex of her thighs. The fact that she’d actually ended up reveling in her punishment was mortifying, and then when he’d refused to allow her any pleasure, it was even worse. How long would it be until his prophecy became truth? Connor had made it plain that he had the power to make her wetter than anyone before him. He could take her right to the brink, and then deny her. Somehow that was worse than the pain, and the confinement. It was soul-destroying, and she knew in her heart he was right. Much more of that treatment and she probably would beg him for release, and maybe even for his cock.

  She lowered her head as the shameful realization settled over her. There was no doubt in her mind. She absolutely had to get away from his clutches, before she sunk any lower into the depths of whatever depravity he had planned… Before she started to want it.

  Her internal monologue was interrupted by the towel which was flung over the edge of the tub. She turned to see him empty the water, and grab a large black hairbrush.

  “Lean over this,” he commanded, gesturing with the hairbrush that she should drape her torso over the towel.

  Molly tensed. What was this? Did he mean to punish her with that thing? She could sense her body shaking at the prospect, and she had no control over it whatsoever.

  “Now!” he ordered, and she gulped, shuffling over on her knees, and taking her place.

  Relief emanated through her when she felt the brush tug through her wet locks, and despite the pain as he tried to force it between the strands, Molly knew it would be nothing compared to the sting of it against her bottom.

  “Good,” he concluded as he placed the brush back into a small drawer by the side of the tub. “Now ease yourself forward. I want your arms in the bath, and your arse up in the air.”

  She whimpered at that. She knew how vulnerable she’d be in this new position, but also that there was no choice. Shifting her weight over the damp towel, she pressed her face against the floor of the tub and wriggled her hips into place, splaying her legs as wide as the chains would allow to help her maintain the position.

  “Perfect,” he praised her, massaging the tender cheeks of her behind. “Good pet.”

  She inhaled at the intimate contact, tense with trepidation about what Connor would do next. Was he planning on punishing her, or would he go back on his promise not to take her without consent? Her breaths came out in short, sharp bursts as she pondered the awful possibilities.

  It was with some shock then that she felt the cold liquid fall between her cheeks. Gasping, she squirmed, but her motion was met with one hard swat to her right cheek.

  “Keep still,” he told her gruffly. “I’m not going to harm you, pet. Just like before, remember. I’m going to fill your arse up, but this time you’re going to wear a special tail for me.”

  He laughed darkly at his own explanation, and in her peripheral vision she caught sight of what he had in mind. It was a black, plastic dildo, probably around five inches in length. That looked bad enough. Her ass was still trying to recover from yesterday’s intrusions, but worse than that was what was attached to the end of the dildo. Molly’s gaze scanned it fearfully. It looked like a tail – an actual tail – small and dark and furry, like it belonged to a dog or some other furry animal.

  He wav
ed it in her line of sight for a moment longer, and she caught the gleeful smile on his lips as he swiped it back toward her ass. All of a sudden, she could feel the plastic rubbing between her lubricated cheeks. Molly panted, half terrified and half shamefully aroused at her fate. She knew once he had this awful thing in place, she really would look like a pet. Forced onto her hands and knees, kept leashed and made to eat from a dog bowl, she’d now have an actual fucking tail to go with it!

  “Deep breaths,” he instructed, reminding her of his expectation as she felt her cheeks part.

  Instinctively she tensed, but Molly forced herself to breathe through the panic. Having this thing in her was going to be bad enough without trying to resist him. She had a feeling she knew what that would earn her. More punishment.

  “Good,” he told her, as he angled the dildo around her dark entrance. “On your next breath out, your tail arrives.”

  She could hear the excitement in his tone, and despite every logical reason why she shouldn’t, at that moment she wanted to jump up and wallop him. She imagined herself doing it. In her mind, she pictured leaping to her feet and swinging for the guy. She may not have the black belt skills he’d demonstrated on the streets of London, but she had quite a right hook, and she knew she’d have the element of surprise in her arsenal. Connor was assuming her cooperation in all of this because she’d been reasonably compliant so far. She guessed he’d never expect her to lash out at this point.

  Focusing on the image, she prepared to exhale, and as she did, he slid the head of the dildo inside her. A small groan escaped her lips as it eased deeper, and acting on some sort of reflex she began to panic.

  “Please,” she whimpered. “I don’t want it.”

  The rational part of her brain hated the way she sounded. She was fucking begging, and worse still, she already knew he’d ignore her plea. As the dildo pushed in deeper, he swatted her aching right cheek. The impact resonated through her body, making her ass tense and temporarily halting her tail’s progress.